Testimonies of a Heavy-Hearted Queen
by Monoa
Author's Note: All the characters depicted in the following work of fiction are the property of Disney. The interpretations of the events seen in any of the films are mine, but I bear no claim to the story line on which they are based. Basically, this is your typical fan-fiction, and I'm sure you'll be able to sort out which elements came from who. Also, some elements are drawn from Marion Zimmer Bradley's works. Again, I'm sure you'll be able to decipher which.
Since I'm hoping this fic will cover the entirety of Scar's reign as well as about a year post-TLK, it'll probably take awhile to finish. I certainly wouldn't mind getting some input as I go! Motivation makes endeavors like this all the easier and funner to complete. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it!
NALA SPEAKS...
Throughout my time, I've been known as many things: daughter, friend, wife, queen, mother, nurturer. My sincere hope is that I will be remembered as thus after my time has passed. It's always been my best intention to speak, tread, and rule in ways that would not harm--but benefit--those around me. However, sharp words have escaped my lips, and I've been a little less than friendly to some. But as you are soon to see, these were warranted, given the situation I was put in.
Situation...too light a word to properly describe the ordeal my sisters and I pushed ourselves through for a little over a year. Ordeal? Still too gentle. That span of time, that "new era" which shadowed the Pridelands, was nothing short of what I assume to be Hell itself. I shudder as it all floods back to me, to the depths of my very soul. The gnawing hunger, light-headed thirst, the heavy-hearted sorrow of losing and watching others try to endure that loss. Sarabi--remembering what it was like for her, and remembering her ceaseless cries of mourning--yanks at my heart-strings, making it almost irrelevent that it's all over. She had always been a rock, not only to myself, but to everyone else in the pride. Seeing her lose her strength was enough to rob everyone else of what was left of theirs.
I roll over and look upon my king, sleeping soundly. To think that many seasons ago, I assumed him dead. And now he lay at my side, peacefully enjoying the slumber he had earned a hundred times over. My mate, my love, but my best friend first and foremost. He was my closest, dearest friend before we ever believed we were to be anything more, and my best friend he will always remain. Our love for eachother is just another thing that will hold us together, whatever trials we may face.
I've never told Simba about the horrors that reigned over the lands in his absence. There's no doubt in my mind that he's heard rumors, though they were probably not delivered on a lioness' tongue. My sisters in suffering, they have also done their best to repress such memories. Telling about it would require us to relive it on some level, and none of them--nor I--feel anxious to do so. Needless to say, my king shall never hear tales of his uncle's kingship from my mouth.
There are nights where the past haunts me--nights like these. I wake up in a cold sweat with dread weighing on my heart. I suppose this would be one of the disadvantages of the repression I thought I had so artfully mastered. Tucking the memories and feelings away in a place where I hoped I would never reach them, and refusing to touch them for seasons on end. Of course unanswered questions would beg for resolution, and neglected fears and feelings would pry at me for attention.
As said before, I've done my best to keep from thinking about Scar's time as king. On an occasion or two, I had turned over the ordeal in my mind, but had never been able to make sense of it. If I'm ever to sleep a night through again, if I'm ever to cease my fear of my own thoughts, I will have to make peace with what has passed. The long separation from my best friend and confidante. The tragic mourning of the pride. The drought, the famine, and the countless hackles raised and blows dealt as a result. The blood that was shed, some prematurely, and all unneeded. And then my son...but that's a tragedy we will deal with later.
So I begin my tale which began several seasons ago, while I was still in the dawn of my youth. Before I became a mother, before I was queen, before absolution. I was a mere cub, naive to the ways of the Circle of Life. A mere cub, who had responsibility and independence thrust onto me long before my time. Though my pride sisters endured the same era, the same horrors, this is my story...all the events and sorrows uniquely mine. I am Nala, Queen of Pride Rock.
BOOK I
THE NEW ERA
Chapter 1
Sarabi watched lazily from her place under an acacia tree as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky. The cool comfort of night had long since abandoned the land, and so she had sought shade...this time away from the communal lionesses' basking rocks. She had made the extra quarter mile trip out into the Pridelands to ensure her solitude; not for any malice she felt towards the pride, no. She just wanted to avoid the gossip and the questions that were sure to come. After her son's little "adventure" on the previous night, she had no doubt that the news would circulate through the pride at rapid pace. Lionesses had a tongue and two ears for gossip, and they utilized them well. In this case, Sarabi couldn't blame them. The near-death of a prince was something of a hot topic.
The queen shuddered as she remembered when her mate, Mufasa, had returned with Simba late the other night. Both were in high spirits; Simba had bounded over to her and showered her with nuzzles, his mouth moving a thousand miles a minute talking about the great kings. Mufasa had mused at his son's enthusiasm, but after a moment or so, told his son in a solemn voice to inform his mother of the day's events. Sarabi hadn't been pleased. She hated disciplining her son, but luckily had no need to do so since Mufasa assured her that he had talked to Simba about it and that it wouldn't happen again.
Sarabi knew full well what lurked in the Shadowlands from her own experiences as a cub. It was nothing but a barren, eerie refuge for the hyenas that had been banished from the Pridelands during King Ahadi's time. Apparently, the hyena clan had fostered a habit of over-stepping their boundaries in Mohatu's--Ahadi's father and the lion king before him--absence. Ahadi had ventured out to find his father and bring him home in his early seasons of life, and returned to find that the hyenas had killed their beloved clan leader and had been antagonizing his mother Queen Mzungu to the point of breaking. His tolerance already worn thin, this had been the last straw, and Ahadi took it upon himself as first duty as king to banish them where they couldn't legally harass anyone on his kingdom's soil.
There had been--the Queen remembered--a few trespassing instances when the hyenas were testing the king's patience. But an example was made of one of the foulest ones--Vunde--and the trespasses stopped. It was then established that any intruder on either side was fair game to the residents.
The hyenas had been within their full legal right to kill Simba, and Sarabi thanked the gods that they hadn't been able to make the most of that chance. She was also grateful that Simba's friend Nala--who had accompanied him to the site--had returned safely to her mother. There was no doubt in Sarabi's mind that in her loyalty for Simba, Nala hadn't told her mother of what had happened that night. However, that peace of mind would be albeit once Sarafina found out from one of the pride sisters.
That was another reason Sarabi wished to stay out of Pride Rock. Though it wasn't her fault in any way, she felt that she was somehow responsible for allowing her son to put her best friend's daughter in danger. Certainly, Nala would get a reprimanding or two from her mother; one, for going to the Shadowlands in the first place, and two, for not telling her about it. But Nala hadn't known any better; she was just following her best friend on another one of his adventures.
She wasn't sure whether or not Simba had known any better either. The entire scenerio seemed a bit suspicious to her. Simba knew very little of the Shadowlands, save for what Mufasa said about it being beyond royal borders. Though Simba was a curious child, Mufasa's statement wouldn't have been enough to pique his interest enough to venture there. Sarabi wondered if he hadn't heard some kind of rumor about what lay beyond the pride's borders, or if he had been dared by one of the other male cubs in the pride. Simba had great pride, and wasn't one to turn down a dare.
There had to have been something, but it was irrelevent now. What was done was done. Mufasa had taken Simba out into the savannah early in the morning for an addition teaching. He had told Sarabi the other night that he felt Simba should be more informed of the boundaries of his future kingdom, and the consequences of crossing them. Perhaps his misadventure hadn't been a defiance of his father's advice but just an ill-informed decision. So today Simba would be walking the entire perimeter of the Pridelands and learning the importance of boundaries, and a more fitting definition of the word "brave".
Sarabi couldn't help but smile at how her son lived on every word and action Mufasa performed. It warmed her heart to see Simba mimick Mufasa's gestures and postures while they were standing side by side. There was no doubt that Simba would someday be a great king, considering who he had to look up to.
"Sarabi?" A gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see who dared intrude upon her much sought after solitude. The pale beige lioness stopped in her tracks when her inquiry was met with an icy glare. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
Sarabi retracted her claws and felt a bit guilty for being so jumpy, with her best friend, no less. Sarafina would forgive her without a second thought for her unprovoked aggitation. Had it been anyone else, be it pride sister or humble subject, she would have come off as unapproachable. Subjects were shy enough as it was, she didn't need to give them any reason to be even moreso. "Sarafina," Sarabi greeted, apologetically, "you scared me."
A knowing smile played on Sarafina's lips. "I figured you were either sound asleep or so lost in your own head that you wouldn't know what was going on in your surroundings anyhow," Sarafina teased, "there was really no way around raising your hackles just a bit."
Sarabi gestured to her friend to join her under the acacia tree, and Sarafina obeyed, claiming a spot in the cool grass next to her queen. "I didn't feel like dealing with anyone's scrutiny right now," Sarabi explained.
After taking a moment to consider her friend, Sarafina replied, "Which of them has any right to pass judgment of their queen, much less one as honorable as you?" The queen looked away, a veil of guilt coming over her face. Since the two lionesses had been reared as sisters, Sarafina had become so attuned to Sarabi's moods and even her thoughts. For this reason, she was often the one Sarabi would seek out when she was in need of venting or confiding. But the queen didn't need to utter a word, as her face betrayed her emotions. Sarafina crawled on her belly to Sarabi's side and gave her a gentle nuzzle. "No, banish those thoughts of yours," she commanded, maternally, "as it is said, let the one without sin cast the first stone. Name to me one sister who has not lost track of her cub at least once." The amber spheres of Sarabi's eyes rose to meet the pale aqua pools of her friend. She saw the truth in Sarafina's words. Sarafina smiled earnestly. "Besides, I don't think that we give them enough credit, the little tricksters. I can't count how many times Nala has made me question my own wits."
"Oh, Sarafina," Sarabi started, shaking her head, "to think something could have happened to them! If something had happened to Simba, I would have been lost...but I would have never forgiven myself if any ill luck fell upon Nala."
"But they are fine," Sarafina comforted, "Mufasa ensured that they returned to their mother's safe and sound...from the hyenas at least." She winked at her companion. "I don't know how you dealt with Simba, but Nala got a good talking to. And a swift swat on the bottom, might I add. She should have known better."
"As should have Simba," Sarabi added.
"But usually Nala is the counter-balance to Simba's mischief. Certainly she's got a streak of her own, but she has a bit more disgression than your son. No offense."
"None taken," Sarabi responding, a smile finally finding its way to her lips. "He gets that part from his father. Mufasa was never one to think things through, at least until he got older."
Sarafina cast Sarabi a knowing sideways glance. "And who do you blame the mischief part on? I seem to remember a feisty little cub with her nose always on the trail of some trouble or another. I remember well, since I was always a step or two behind her."
"As far as I get from the pride sisters, I will never be able to escape your scrutiny, will I, Sara?" asked Sarabi with a laugh. She cast her eyes upward, and considered the traveling yellow orb in the sky. "I wonder how long Mufasa will keep Simba today. They've been gone for quite awhile."
Sarafina heard the almost undetectable worry in Sarabi's voice. She decided to nip her friend's fears in the bud. "Don't fret, Sarabi," she said, "your son is safe. As long as Mufasa is alive and well, no danger will ever get the best of Simba."
"Thanks for hanging out with me today, Dad," Simba exclaimed, bounding in step with his father's long strides.
Mufasa grinned at his son's enthusiasm. He had to admit, it was nice just spending time with Simba as his son, and not just as the future king who needed to be filled with royal knowledge. Earlier that day, he had told Sarabi that he would be using this day as a bit of constructive discipline, teaching Simba to mind the borders and the rules surrounding them. It wasn't a total lie, since he had touched base on the topics. However, the previous day's happenings told Mufasa that he didn't know Simba as well as he thought he did. Not that he didn't ever spend time with him. Every morning, he took Simba out and taught him about the principles of being a king and gave him history lessons on the Pridelands. More often than not, their dialogue consisted of Mufasa talking at length while Simba watched wide-eyed or fidgetted in boredom--depending on the subject matter--and the typical Q and A that followed.
He had always idealized his son as most fathers would. In Mufasa's eyes, Simba was an enthusiastic and inquisitive cub, but a very smart and informed one. It was Mufusa's folly in this regard that made him forget that every cub, no matter whose, had a streak of mischief that might cause them to fly in the face of their better judgment from time to time. This overlooking of a known fact almost resulted in Simba's death. Mufasa knew he wasn't at fault for the incident itself, but he knew that if he had paid a little more attention to Simba, he could have helped prevent it.
"It was my pleasure, Simba," Mufasa replied in his low bass voice.
"And the best part is, there was no learning to get in the way!" Simba grinned.
Mufasa gave a hearty chuckled and pulled Simba toward him with a massive paw and mussed his fur. "Why you little!" Simba laughed and escaped his father's grasp, smoothing his bangs back into place. "You know, I was thinking that perhaps we could change up our mornings a little. We'll do our lessons every other day, and on the odd days, we'll just pal around the Pridelands like we are now. What do you say?"
Simba's grin spread so wide across his face, Mufasa feared it would crack in half. "That would be so cool!" he replied excitedly. "Do you really mean it?"
"Sure!" Mufasa pulled Simba close to him and crouched next to his ear, and whispered, "As long as you don't tell your mother what we're up to."
Simba mimed sealing his lips, and Mufasa couldn't help but laugh at the cub's eagerness.
"Sire!"
Simba's tail drooped at immediate recognition of the voice. It seemed that everytime things were getting good, Zazu had to drop in and ruin them. He was the checks and balances system in anything involving the cub's enjoyment. Sure, he could go for a walk, as long as Zazu went with. He and Nala could play at the foot of Pride Rock, as long as Zazu checked in on them every few minutes. Though he felt a new bit of sympathy for his father's majordomo after he had nearly become hyena chow in the attempt to rescue Simba and Nala. So now guilt accompanied irritation.
In a flash of cerulean feathers and an obnoxious orange beak, Zazu landed at the feet of king and prince, and bowed to them both regally. "Your Majesty," he addressed Mufasa, "young master", he addressed Simba.
"Morning, Zazu!" the two royals replied, one with more enthusiasm than the other. "What's the good word?" Mufasa asked.
"Not so good, I'm afraid," Zazu replied, voice trembling a bit, "I think the hyenas are retaliating against the border infringement that occurred yesterday." His eyes fell on Simba for all of a second, and immediately, Simba's own eyes dropped to the ground in shame.
Mufasa squinted. "What exactly do you mean?"
"They're within our borders, Sire."
In irritation, Mufasa clenched his eyes shut. "Not again. I suppose we'd better take care of it before they cause any trouble." He grinned down at Simba. "I'm surprised that they came back for another beating so soon."
Simba's lips curved upward and the guilt flushed from his face.
"I'm sorry, son, but we're going to have to cut this one short. You understand." Mufasa hoped he would, at least.
"Sure, Dad," Simba replied with an empathetic grin. He then turned to the king's messenger. "Zazu, take me home?"
"Actually, Zazu had better come with me," Mufasa replied. "With him in the air and me on ground, we'll be able to track down those mangy rascalls that much faster. I trust you can find your own way home, Simba?"
Mufasa's offer yielded its desired effect; Simba's ears perked up, pleased with this new amount of responsibility. He had never walked himself home before, though he knew the way by heart. "Alright!" he yelped with glee. He rushed over and nuzzled Mufasa's forearm, and then knocked Zazu nearly speechless when he caught him in an embrace. Before Mufasa could sound of the parental list of warnings, Simba was running back to the promontory. "See you later, Dad!" he called over his shoulder. "And don't worry, I won't tell Mom!"
The plan had failed, and in ways that he didn't expect. It had been laid out so well, and so inconspicuously, too. No one would have known who was behind the cubs' disappearance. Luckily, he had dodged the radar and assuming that the little brat didn't spill the beans on who gave him the idea in the first place, he was in the clear.
He knew full well that Simba would invite Nala along. Being brave was worth nothing unless you had someone to witness it; even better if it was someone you wanted to woo. Then he would have been rid of both the little brats.
He had no personal disdain towards Nala. However, when Nala was pronounced as Simba's intended, he couldn't help but seeth in his cave, feeling that they had used the notion as a personal insult towards him. The hopeful lion had been jostled out of his place as heir upon Simba's unexpected birth. Now their entire childhood crew had some small taste of royalty except for him.
He remembered the sadistic joy he felt when Sarabi was pronounced barren. Served her right, for what she had put Taka through. Her sudden alienation and eventual betrayal had made Taka barren, but in a completely different way. He knew--and the knowledge made his blood boil--that no lioness would ever measure up to what Sarabi had been to him. In a broken-hearted attempt to salvage his slipping sense of sanity, he tried to warm up to Sarafina. She was delightful; shy at first, but so tender and loving. He grew to love her and the motherly way she was able to make him feel like he counted for something in the grand scheme of things. However, Sarafina was unable to fill the idealized role Taka had designed for her and she gradually slipped away from him as tight as he held on.
Sometime after Sarafina's abandonment, Taka found himself missing Zira. Neurotic and somewhat possessed cub that she was, she was the only one who had stuck with him through it all, until her mother took her and her siblings from the Pridelands. It was sometime during their adolescence, and he remembered it well. Meeting her by the water hole late at night, asking with a bending heart, why? Zira had been strangely mysterious about it, but every bit as sad as her friend. She merely told him that it was "complicated" but that if he ever fell into any serious trouble, she would return to him.
After her departure the next morning, Taka found himself completely and utterly alone. He had been forlorned by every single lioness that had ever been close to him, save for one who had been painfully watching his self-destruction, and awaiting his return to her. Unfortunately, Uru fell ill not long after Zira had left. The illness took her from her young sons quicker than the shaman, Rafiki, had expected.
The snowballing tragedy of Taka's life didn't end with the untimely death of his mother. King Ahadi was so bereaved by the death of his mate that he refused to rule without her by his side and passed the throne onto Mufasa. Mufasa who, to add insult to injury, had taken Sarabi as his queen.
Sarabi's so-thought barrenness gave Taka a small glimmer of hope that maybe there was still justic in the world. And then came Simba. Upon the eve of Simba's birth, Taka decided that if karma wouldn't pay up, he'd collect it in the only way he knew how.
"Hey, Uncle Scar!" a voice exclaimed, pulling him out of his contemplation.
Normally, Scar would have been irritated by Simba's untimely drop-ins during his solitude. Especially after last night. But now he was so emotionally and mentally drained by his failed plan that all he could do was greet the cub indifferently. "Simba," he responded, "how nice of you to drop by."
The cub padded over to him and inspected his uncle up close. "How come you look so tired?"
"Long, disappointing night, nephew," Scar responded, rolling lazily onto his side. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"
Simba didn't detect Scar's desire to be alone and laid down next to his uncle. "I'm supposed to be with my dad right now, learning and stuff. But I guess there's another hyena problem that he had to take care of."
"Wow, three in two days," Scar replied, dryly.
Simba opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped himself when he realized what Scar was talking about. His ears drooped. "Yeah, I guess. I just wish I got to spend more time with my dad. Really, hang out with him, you know? Instead of all this king stuff..."
Scar could empathize, but he stopped himself. The last thing he needed was to feel any tenderness for this hindrance of his rightful inheritance. "Oh, Simba," he muttered, accidentally. Just then, an idea took spark. "You should give your father more credit. He really considers you his closest pal."
"Nuh-uh." Simba replied.
"Oh, yes. In fact, I'm not supposed to say anything, but..."
Just like clockwork, Scar thought as he saw Simba's ears perk with interest and jumped to his feet excitedly. "Tell me! Tell me, Uncle Scar!"
"Really, I shouldn't." Scar turned away as if trying to break the conversation off. Simba began to jostle him.
"Is it a surprise?"
Scar slowly turned to meet the eager cub's eyes. He took a deep breath and gave in. A toothy grin spread across his face. "Of the best kind, Simba, of the best kind..."
Sarabi watched as the sun sank down towards the horizon and felt her growing apprehension churn in her stomach. Yesterday's meal began to fight back with digested muscle and hoof. They should have been home hours ago.
As if reading her thoughts, Sarafina offered, "Sarabi, we can head back to Pride Rock and assemble a small hunting party. For all that we know, they could be back there wondering where you are!"
The queen doubted that. Still, she knew that laying around would only give her more time to think of all the possible tragedies that could have befallen her family, and that wouldn't do anyone any good. With a half-hearted nod, she rose to her feet, stretched fore and aft, and started back towards the looming landmark with Sarafina at her side.
They had to be back at Pride Rock. Maybe Mufasa had forgotten that Sarabi had decided to spend a day out on the plains and was in fact pacing at the mouth of the den wondering where his mate was. Simba would probably be sitting on the massive jutting edge of Pride Rock with Nala, eagerly awaiting the sunset.
"Sarabi!"
A breathy shout tore her from her thoughts, and she and Sarafina turned to see Scar running towards them, urgency pastered upon his face. When he finally reached them, he was breathing hard, and it sounded like he was about to pass a lung.
"Scar?" Sarafina crouched down to better read his facial expression, hoping it would give some kind of hint as to what he was about to tell them. "Are you alright? What's happened?"
As Sarafina's last word dropped into the air, a foreign level of dread took hold of Sarabi. It latched onto her very being, like a predator's teeth into the neck of its prey, and she found herself short of breath, gasping irregularly for air. "No," she whispered.
"Sarabi," Scar finally met the queen's eyes, and somehow, the green irises confirmed Sarabi's worst fear. "My queen, promise me you'll remain calm."
Please, no, Sarabi prayed silently. She felt her meal resurrecting itself from her stomach.
"I was wandering the Pridelands, hoping to track down the hyenas. After the incident the other night, I heard three of them plotting to breech their borders and so I had every intention on catching them and dealing with them myself, to spare Mufasa the trouble and the hyenas the possibility of the death penalty. I caught wind of them, rank-smelling creatures that they are, near the gorge. As I made my way down into the canyon, I felt a tremor beneath my paws."
"Stampede," Sarafina muttered.
"The wildebeests were flooding into the gorge," Scar's voice suddenly took on a terrified tone, and his eyes reflected horror as if he were watching the scene all over again, "and suddenly I heard a voice screaming for help." Scar shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself sufficiently so he could explain what entailed. "I had thought Simba was with his father today for a lesson..." his voice cracked, "he was holding onto that branch for dear life. Before I had a chance to react, I saw Mufasa scramble down the canyon and into the fray."
The queen suddenly felt the entire weight of the world and all its happenings on her stomach. Air felt scarce as she struggled to take in breaths she hoped would help her keep her constitution. The lack of air to her brain made her feel as if she were dreaming. This couldn't be real. This was just an awful dream, and she would wake up to Simba's intrusive morning wake-up call and his amber eyes twinkling mischievously. Any second now...
"My queen...they are both dead."
A faintness overcame her, and Sarabi assumed she was in the state of transit between slumber and waking. Black closed in on her. The last thing she heard was Sarafina's frightened voice cry, "Sarabi!"